Of Ryschate and Dough
by Chaina
Summary: Baking can be a very dangerous mission.


**Title: ** Of Ryshcate and Dough  
**Fandom: ** Star Wars  
**Characters: ** Jaina Solo, Tahiri Veila  
**Timeline: ** Sometime in the future  
**Word Count: ** 861  
**Rating: ** G

**Disclaimer: ** Jaina Solo, Tahiri Veila, and the rest of the SW galaxy do not belong to me. They belong to Lucas, Del Rey, respected authors, etc.

**Summary: ** Baking can be a very dangerous mission.

* * *

"Tahiri, I thought you said that you knew how to cook!" 

Even to her own ears, Jaina thought it sounded like a pathetic whine rather than the statement she intended it to be. But she didn't care. No, not with the upcoming events of the night. Not one bit.

Tahiri looked up from the kitchen counter, studying Jaina intently. She pushed back a strand of her yellow hair and shook her head. "I said I could use a synthesizer. Or make _von'u_ . I never said anything about ryschate."

Jaina rolled her eyes, leaning back against the nanowave oven door and crossing her arms over her chest. "Then why did you even volunteer?"

"Cause it sounded like fun. And you gave me no choice." Tahiri spun around on the counter stool to better face Jaina. She smiled, a little too brightly for Jaina's tastes. "And I wanted to know what was so important about some ryschate."

"Well, you're not going to," she snapped.

The elder Jedi pushed herself away from the oven, walking over to the counter and ignoring Tahiri's pout. Instead, she focused on the ingredients in front of her. Even with the instructions on her datapad, it was one mission she didn't know how to begin.

It would be so much easier to take on a warlord than bake a ryschate from scratch. Shaking her head, Jaina wondered what in the Corellian nine hells was she thinking.

"Come on, Jaina, just use a synthesizer. It'll be quicker that way." Tahiri leaned her head on her hand, green eyes begging. Jaina let out a disgusted sigh and shook her head, holding up the bag of flour and shoving it at Tahiri.

"No," she replied sternly, putting an end to the prior conversation. Jaina nodded at the bag. "Instructions say to dump that into a bowl."

Tahiri sat there, a questioning look on her face as she stared at the flour container in front of her. "So?"

Jaina smiled. "You're going to do it."

"_Mon-mawl rrish hu camasami_ , don't see why i I /i have to."

"You volunteered."

She chuckled at Tahiri's irritated expression and glanced down at the datapad again to see what should go next. Jaina gestured at some nearby spices and the bottle of Corellian whisky, pushing them towards the bowl with the Force. "Need to mix those in, too."

Tahiri mumbled something about slave labor under her breath and Jaina grinned. The blonde Jedi glared as she mixed the dark colored flour with her hands. The glower only lasted for a few seconds longer, until Tahiri looked down at the developing dough in her hands and grinned. Without hesitation, she picked up a handful of the mixture and hurled it at an unsuspecting Jaina.

She smiled in smug satisfaction as Jaina wiped the dripping blobs off her face, watching it fall on to the table in shock. She blinked – once, twice – and then stared at Tahiri, murder in her eyes.

"Blast it! That was uncalled for, Tahiri!"

Now it was Tahiri's turn to smile innocently. "Tell me why you're putting all this effort into a _ryshcate_ or you're going to get up close and personal with a lot more of this stuff."

Jaina shook her head, a small frown appearing on her face. A missed piece of dough fell from her hair and splattered on to the table.

Tahiri grinned again, lifting her hand a little higher from the bowl rim. "Yes."

"No."

The hand raised another couple of centimeters. "Yes."

"Don't throw that," Jaina warned.

Tahri rolled her eyes. "Why not? It's not like you have an important da…"

Realization dawned on Tahiri's face as Jaina flushed a light red. The Tatooinian Jedi's eyes widened, full of gleeful mirth. "You do, don't you?"

Jaina shrugged, regaining control of her emotions – mental barriers up, face in a neutral mask once more. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Tahiri laughed. "Come on, Jaina, you don't expect me to believe that, do you? You look like a Shaper caught making _us-hrok _ to a Shamed One. I'm not going to buy a _maybe_." She paused, bobbing her dough filled hand up and down in a subtle reminder. "So, who's the lucky guy?"

Jaina muttered an inaudible name, causing Tahiri to quirk an eyebrow at the woman. "What? You'll have to speak louder."

"It's none of your business."

"You're forcing me to help with this thing. I think I have every right."

Jaina's glower turned icy.

"I'm sure this mystery man, whoever he is, wouldn't mind his date covered in ryschate dough," Tahiri continued, still smiling.

"His parents might," Jaina retorted through gritted teeth, ready to pick up the nearby vweliu nuts and hurl them at Tahiri's smirking face.

"Parents, huh? That cuts down the list considerably." The grin widened, and for a moment, it seemed like she would relinquish the dough. Wishful thinking. Tahiri swirled in the chair, still holding the glob dangerously in her hand. "So, tell me, does Jag prefer his ryschate cooked or Jaina covered?"

Yes, Jaina decided as she glared blaster bolts at Tahiri, she would definitely take the warlord over this torture any day.

Especially when certain little blonde Jedi were involved.

-fin-


End file.
